Remember Me
by DaeDreemer
Summary: AU. A rainy night, a coincidental meeting, and a friendship they both needed.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: The timeline might be fudged a little, but its set vaguely pre-show for "Supernatural" and towards the end of s3 of "Roswell." AU. Focused on Dean and Maria. Thank you for reading!

* * *

It was always pouring when you needed to unload boxes, always. It didn't matter if you were in the middle of a three month drought, if the DeLuca women had to unload supplies, it poured.

Maria DeLuca stared out the windshield willing the rain to stop; times like this _being _an alien would be so much better than just knowing one- or three. She sighed, maybe Frank would help her unload once he knew she was here. After all, it was his shit she was delivering.

She was talented enough to put her umbrella up and get out of the car and carefully open the back door and pull out one of the smaller boxes. Yep. She was talented enough to do that- and to carry it in one hand up the steps and ignore the flashes of lightning and the torrential rain covering her shoes. When she was on the porch she pounded on the door with her foot.

And pounded again.

And put the box and umbrella down so she could pound with both hands.

"Goddammit!"

The _bastard _wasn't here. The bastard _wasn't here. _

She stood there staring at the closed door for a moment longer than was necessary because _the bastard wasn't here. _Then she called her Mom.

Five minutes of intense arguing later, Mom insisted Maria leave the boxes on the porch. All the boxes- even the big ones she had no hope of getting out of the car without getting wet.

"GODDAMMIT! God-DAMN-it. _Goddammit!_" She screeched stomping down the stairs, clutching the umbrella again.

"**GODDAMMIT!**" She yelled again opening the back door and glaring at the boxes inside.

"Now wha's a 'retty 'irl like 'ou cursin' 'bout?"

The umbrella flew out of her hand, "HOLY SHIT!"

It smacked the guy who'd spoken in the face, "Fuck!" he cried.

The umbrella clattered to the ground.

The umbrella was on the ground and she was getting _wet _and the guy was holding one side of his face and bending over a little a bit like she'd hit him with a three ton anvil and not a lightweight umbrella.

"Tha' _hurt,_" he slurred and she glared through the rain water cascading down her face.

"Dammit!" She growled at him, "DAMMIT."

She was _wet. _

"What the _hell _is your problem sneaking up on me like that?"

"Wasn'a sneakin..."

She glared at him again- through the water, "Look, you're a big guy and all, but you're drunk off your ass and I have no problem kicking you in the balls so stay away from me." She warned.

She was _pissed, _she was _wet _for godssake.

She'd unloaded two boxes when she turned around and smacked into Drunk Guy. He stumbled back- holding one of her boxes.

"Seriously man! What the HELL?" She yelled, the rain had gotten hard. It was hard to see now; hard to blink with all the water on your face.

Good thing Alien keychains were hardy.

He grinned at her, water sliding off his nose, "M'helping 'ou." He stated and staggered up the stairs.

"Great, my drunk hero."

She stomped back to the car. The inside of the Jetta was _soaked. _Two boxes left.

Drunk Guy helped her with them- in a very unsteady, highly drunken way. It didn't matter though because all six boxes were on the freakin porch and she was going _kill _Frank next she saw him.

"Thanks for the help." She yelled at Drunken Guy. He was staggering away from her already, down the street in an unsteady swagger that made her frown. He raised his hand in the air and waved her off. If she'd been dry and it wasn't past eight o'clock she might've given the entire situation more thought.

But she wasn't and it was and she got in the Jetta because she wanted to go home.

She'd driven less than a block when she came up on Drunk Guy lying by the side of the road.

"I'm not stopping. I'm not stopping. I'm _not _stopping. It's raining. He could be a psycho killer. I'm not stopping."

The Jetta slid to a stop.

"Dammit." She shivered, it was chilly.

She shoved the door open and made her way over to Drunk Guy.

"Hey you! You wanna get up from there? 's there someone you want me to call?"

He was spitting up water. Leaving his mouth open so it'd fill up and then spitting it out, letting it dribble all over.

Lovely.

She knelt next to him, "Hey! I'm talkin to you! What're you doin out here?"

"... ghost 'ttacked me... wasn' poltergeist..."

She scowled, he was delirious. "What?" She yelled.

"... was wrong... no' poltergei'... _ghos_'..."

She didn't have _time _to decipher his babbling.

Especially if it was about _ghosts, _like _aliens _weren't bad enough.

"You live around here?" She asked, raising her hand to her face, trying to stop some of the water from getting into her eyes.

"... I 'ive no where..." he told her, then started gargling with the water.

Gross.

"You can't stay here!"

The gargling continued.

"No. I'm not doing it. I'm not... no. I'm not. No way."

Lightning flashed and she pulled Drunk Guy into a sitting position. "Come on."

Ten minute later she'd deposited him into her back seat. He babbled about disappearing roads and tequila and poltergeist and seriously? What guy babbled about _movies _when he was drunk? She parked in the driveway and turned the ignition off.

"Okay, listen to me."

"... didn' know sand 'ot so 'ard when i' got we'..." he mumbled, head lolling forward, "... it was rea' har'... not 'andy at all..."

"Yeah. Magic-"

"-mmm, know 'bout that..."

"- great. I'm going to leave you here. In the morning when I come out here there are two options, A) you and the car will be here or B) the car will be here and you will not. If the _car _is not here, I _will _hunt you down and don't for one second think I can't or won't because you have no idea who you're dealing with here, buddy. Oh and _of _those two options the better one is definitely option B. If I were you I would totally go for option B, understand?"

Thunder rumbled as soon as she'd finished.

"Tha's loud..." he complained.

"You didn't even hear me did you?"

"Bee... you sai' _bee. _Bees _sting_. I go' 'tung once. Did ya know 'hat? They're 'mall, but they _'ting..._"

"Yeah. Great. Sleep it off. _Christ. _The stuff I get into," she muttered, rolling her eyes. With one last look at him she made a dash for the front door. He was probably a psycho, it would server her right if he tried to smother her in her sleep- or if he took off with the Jetta. True, she'd taken the keys, but he had the look of a guy who could hot-wire a car. Worn boots, blue jeans, raggedy shirt; the rain and darkness kept her from seeing much more, but any guy who'd get this drunk was some form of trouble.

And she'd filled her quota of trouble- for a lifetime.

Inside her house she stripped all the way to her room, dropping garments as she went. Grabbing the towel hanging from her door, she wrapped it around herself. She was shivering and for a moment she thought about Drunk Guy and how he must be cold too- or maybe not. Maybe the alcohol intoxication kept him warm.

Back in the living room, she checked to see if the Jetta was still there. It was. Lightning flashed again, followed by thunder... Michael had come to her on a night like this once. He'd come to her when he'd had no where else to go, his port a storm. She'd liked that thought; thought it meant something.

It hadn't.

She hated nights like this one.

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.tbc.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended.**  
**

* * *

It dawned sunny and warm- it always did after a storm like that. She slept through her alarm and through the first time Mom called. The second time broke through her haze after the fourth ring. The third call actually got answered.

_Get to school, _Mom commanded and Maria screeched because it was half past seven already and she was going to be _late _again. She slid into the Jetta with a bagel in her mouth, book bag slung over her shoulder, chemistry book in one hand, keys in the the other.

Chem book and back pack into the passenger seat, keys into ignition, bagel into left hand, turn key-

"Wha-"

She screamed. Loud and piercing.

"Oh my god! Oh my GOD! HOLY SHIT! OH MY GOD!"

The bagel had landed who knows where and she was grappling with the door handle trying to get the hell out of the car.

"Oh my god!" She screamed again, leaping out of the car.

"Oh god! I forgot you were here! I forgot you were here! How could I forget you were here! What ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?"

The guy had pushed open the back door but was still sitting in the car. _HER _car.

He looked like shit. Hair stuck together with who knows what and sticking up at odd angles, except for the right side that was flattened against his head. Red bruising running along one side of his face, stubble all over the place, split lip- shit warmed over.

"HELLO! Can you hear me?" She yelled, stamping her foot, because she was _late, _"Are you deaf! What are you STILL **doing **here!"

He blinked at her, running a hand over his face, grimacing as he ran his tongue over his lips.

A frustrated sigh escaped out of her and she started to pace, "Hello! Seriously, man! Get out of my car!"

And then miraculously, he did.

He pulled himself out of it and stood shakily in front of her.

She stopped pacing. The guy was big; tall and all muscle, but he had an arm wrapped around his stomach and he was looking at her like he didn't really _see _her.

"I don't-" he starts in a voice like gravel but then his eyes rolled back in his head and collapsed.

His head made an audible sound when it smacked on the concrete and she winced- that couldn't be good.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh god."

She was totally not making it to school today.

**

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**

"I don't know what to do! I don't know who to call! I can't move him and he's just lying there and I don't know what to-"

"Okay, Maria. You _need _to calm down. I can barely understand you. Take a deep breath. _Who's _just lying there?"

"TheGuy- hehelpedmewiththeboxesandnow-"

"What? Okay, take another deep breath."

She did, then started over, "Yesterday! It was raining and I had to deliver to Frank and the bastard closed early after he'd _said _that he was going to be there and there were a lot of boxes to unload. I mean they weren't heavy or anything, but they were big and bulky and I was getting wet and -"

"Maria!"

"Yeah, I know- deep breath." She paused and did it. It didn't really help, in fact all the deep breathing was making her light headed, "I can't tell if he's breathing!" she blurted out.

"Who?"

"The GUY!"

_Christ _was Liz even listening to her? She'd explained this already.

"What guy, Maria?"

He stirred then, groaning and twitching like he was trying to get up or lift his head or- not choke on his own vomit.

"OH MY GOD GROSS!" She yelled and could practically see Liz flinch; heard her start to talk, but the guy was gagging and jesus people _died _choking on vomit didn't they?

And she did _not _need a dead guy in her driveway.

"I'll call you back." She hissed at Liz and dropped the phone back into her pocket.

"Okay, okay, okay... I just kneel here and... carefully kneel... not _too _near him... and then just... I just have to... tip... I just have to push... just _shove _him over... just... _shove _hard... so he can... OH MY GOD GROSS!"

Vomit leaked out of the corner of his mouth onto the concrete as he continued to twitch. She gagged too and pressed a hand to her mouth. The twitching got harder suddenly and she realized the guy was practically convulsing in front of her.

She felt the first pang of actual concern; this was bad, this guy was _sick. _She reached for her phone again. Her Mom was going to _kill _her for bringing home some strange man, but he needed an ambulance.

"Okay, man- just relax. I'm calling 911, just try to-"

"-no-"

He spit the word out along with more vomit and saliva and Maria gagged again.

"-no, plea-"

She started dialing. His hand came up suddenly and grabbed her wrist.

"-plea- don't-"

The twitching was dying down and his grip on her wrist dropped as suddenly as it had appeared. He was looking at her through half closed eyes now and she could read panic there. Full-fledged-GOD-PLEASE-DON'T-CALL-ANY-FORM-OF-AUTHORITY panic.

She knew that panic well.

"Okay, fine. Just- relax; and stop puking... I'd really appreciate that part."

There was enough puke already in a puddle next to him and dribbling down the side of his mouth. She was going to have to clean that up wasn't she? She gagged again.

_Gross. _

He nodded vaguely and his eyes slid shut.

She had to get him off the driveway. People had already glanced her way more than once and she couldn't exactly go to school an hour late now and she couldn't go inside and just leave him here, because... that was just... _wrong. _

"Hey!" She hissed in his direction, shaking him a little, "Come on. Wake up... I need you to wake up and then get up..." she shook him again.

He groaned and went to shift- into the puddle of vomit.

_GROSS. _

"No! Whoa! You don't want to do that..." she grabbed his arm and yanked him towards her; the arm was rock solid, this guy was _all _muscle. "Wake up... come on, there's no chance I can get you inside like this..."

_Inside?_

... that was her mother's voice. Her mother who would pitch the greatest fit _ever _if Maria let some strange, formerly drunken, now vomiting guy into their house. Good thing Mom was out of town then, huh.

She shook him again. He groaned again, opening his eyes a little. "Okay, good. Get up now! You can't just lie here, you have to get up!" She stood and pulled him arm up.

It wasn't going to work, it wasn't even going to _budge_ this guy, but it would give him an idea of what she wanted- since he obviously wasn't actually _hearing _her. He didn't move.

She yanked again, "Come on!"

He groaned again and maybe she should feel bad because he was in pain- but he was also in her driveway.

His head turned towards her, "Wha-"

Good. A response.

"Get. Up."

He blinked blankly at her, she pulled on his arm again. He seemed to finally get the idea and started pushing himself up. She let go of his arm so he could- actually use it to get himself up from the ground.

She stood there and watched him, it wasn't like she could actually _help_ him. He staggered to his knees and then he leaned against the car. She was pretty sure he'd put his knee in the vomit.

Gross.

He was still leaning against the car, eyes closed, face pressed against the window. She got closer and grabbed his arm again, "You're not actually finished yet... come on..." she yanked on his arm.

He groaned and this time it ended on a whimper and she was starting to reconsider the whole 911 thing.

Almost as if he'd heard it, his head lulled towards her, "... m'k..." he drawled, and started pulling himself up again. She helped this time- sort of. She kept a very good distance between her and the smell that was radiating off this guy, even as she let him lean on her... a little.

A very little.

"Okay, good. Now just- you walk with- okay good... one step, good- whoa! Okay, don't fall- I can't actually... keep you up... good... okay- just... ow, dude! That's my hair!- oh, don't fall! Careful... oh god, don't puke... ow! Okay... just... good..."

They staggered to her front door in a drunken-like line and she _really _hoped none of the neighbors were home. They did not need to see this. They saw enough weird at her house.

"Okay, good... just lean there... okay, yeah, good... good." She set him up against the doorway and he leaned on it heavily. She paused a moment before running into the house to make sure he wasn't going to pitch backwards or forwards... or to the side. He looked like he was unconscious again- except could you be unconscious and standing?

Her phone buzzed, it was Liz. She ignored it and unlocked the front door. Running to her room she grabbed the bedspread and raced back to the living room. She draped it over the couch because her mother was _really _going to kill her if she got the couch dirty.

Very carefully, so he never actually touched her, she led him into the living room. He wasn't unconscious, but he was close. He was breathing heavily and making gaspy noises that made her wince. She positioned him in front of the sofa and then tilted him towards it and released.

She watched him topple onto it. He groaned and grimaced, wrapping an arm around his middle and curling into himself; she winced again. If he weren't so _huge _and all she'd be able to be a bit more gentle with him.

Her phone buzzed again. She ignored it again.

She knelt down next to where his head was laying.

"Hey," she called, shaking him again, "Is there someone- hey! Come on... wake up... is there somebody I can call for you?"

"- no...no one... no one..." he mumbled, red-rimmed eyes opened at half mast.

She frowned, "Look, you can't actually _stay _here, so there _has _to be someone for me to call and come get you..."

His eyes were sliding shut again, as he mumbled, _no one _again.

"Hey, hey! Wake up- come on, man..." No reaction. He was gone. She sighed, why was she surprised? Drunken bums didn't usually have people they could call to come pick them up.

She sat back and stared at him. It was just... that he didn't seem like a drunken bum- at least not completely. Well, he did have the layered clothing look... and the unshaven look... and the smelly attribute...

He could very well be a psycho-bum.

Except for the leather- psycho-bums didn't usually wear leather, good leather too. And except for the ring... looked like silver... and the the boots... good boots that had seen wear and tear, but had also been cared for.

... and except for the part of her that told her he wasn't. She'd learned to listen that part of herself; the part that had told her loving Michael wasn't the smartest thing to do, the part of herself that had told her she'd survive it when he left...

He'd been in a fight- a brawl probably, coming from out of town for sure; Frank's Stand was on the outskirts after all. He could be a tourist who'd run into some trouble... yeah, a tourist come to see the aliens.

She snorted, aliens; the smile that touched her lips faded- it would be the most humorless joke she'd ever tell.

He groaned again, shifting and she jumped, realizing she'd spent at least five minutes staring at him. She had to **do **something. He couldn't stay here and she needed to _try _to get to school- maybe... at least after lunch. She could tell her Mom she'd gotten sick- cramps, throwing-up and she'd been dedicated enough to drag herself to school anyway...

Yeah. First she had to get this guy out of here...

She took a deep breath and held it, then leaned in and started feeling the pockets of his jacket. _Please be in the jacket, please be in the jacket, please be in the jacket..._

It wasn't in the jacket.

She leaned back and released the breath and sucked in another. _Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up, _she chanted as she carefully felt the pockets of his jeans.

_Got it._

She pulled out a slim, black cell phone. Oh yeah, tourist.

She leaned back, released her breath, and started scrolling through the contacts for anything remotely helpful. Something labeled, "Call if Unconscious" would be great.

Abby, Aileen, Allison, Andy, Beverly, Beth...

Maria's eyes widened- tourist with a harem.

She was about to give up, after scrolling past _Cat1_, _Cat2_, _Cat3_, when she found _Dad. _Thank god!

Dad was good. Dad was **great**_. _She dialed it immediately.

_"You've reached John, I'm not available right now, go ahead and leave a message."_

Maria took deep breath and did.

"Hi, my name's Maria. And I... well... your son could use some... uh, help. You can reach me at 505-555-2777. Call back soon- please... the sooner the better because this is so _not _good and soon would be great. Really soon would be greater... yeah, thanks. Okay, bye."

She closed the phone and set it beside her; that was that.

"I just called your Dad." She told him. "He didn't pick up. Do you know what that means?" She asked the unconscious man, "It means he's useless. Completely useless."

He stirred and mumbled something. Maria blinked, and leaned forward a little- a very little, "_You _don't have to be a completely useless lump of leather and flesh though... _you _could wake up and be fine and grateful enough to leave quickly and quietly... and quickly." She repeated, because really- that needed was important.

... getting the _vomit _off the driveway before it melded with concrete permanently was important too.

_**Gross.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Minutes later, she directed the hose at the mess in the driveway, ignoring her buzzing phone in her pocket, and Mr. Revlin from across the street frowning and shaking his head at her. Wasn't the break-up of their little secret society supposed to give her her normal life back?

Michael had left, Isabel and Jesse had moved, Liz had accepted a scholarship to some far off university, Max was packed to go with her, Kyle was ready to go on a year long retreat; graduation was in less than a week- so where was her normal life?

How was she supposed to feel normal again? Normal didn't like her anymore. It didn't accept her. It laughed at her, scoffed even, and skipped off in the other direction. Hell, would she even recognize normal? Would she know what it felt like? What it looked like? Was this normal? It could be. She vaguely remembered being worried about nail polish and high heels... even after the alien drama had begun she remembered worry about haircuts and lipstick shades; it was only this past year that everything had gotten so dark, so deadly...

Would she ever know what it was like to live without this smog of dread and fear over everything? Seeing conspiracies and traitors in every random gesture? Would she ever be able to make a friend without the fear of turning around to a knife in her back?

She swallowed hard past the lump that suddenly rose in her throat. She wasn't going to cry about it. She _wasn't._ She increased the water pressure on the hose. She was going to wake the guy in her living room up, shove him into her bathroom with a towel, give him $20 bucks and push him out the door. She was going to be _nice _to him, she was going to _help _him, because she had to **do **something. Because Michael had _left _her, because Liz was _leaving_ her, because she was going to stay and rot in Roswell under the eye of some secret government agency for the rest of her life while they all lived theirs on the run and she-

She couldn't figure out which was worse.

* * *

.tbc.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: No copyright infringement intended.

**

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**

His head hurt. A lot. Even before he registered consciousness he registered that fact. It throbbed unrelentingly... moving it didn't help, the pillow brushed against something that _hurt _and he gasped- breathing hurt too.

He curled tighter, the cushions melding in with him. Cushions? Wha-?

He sat up. Or tried to... every muscle in his body protested and it took a long moment for the room to stop spinning behind his closed eyelids.

What the-?

He opened his eyes... or started too. The lids were stuck together and he felt like he was on a boat again. What the hell had happened?

Eyes finally open revealed a small homey living room that absolutely was too _small _and _homey _to belong to a motel. His vision was blurry and the pounding in his head told him he had concussion- one he couldn't remember getting. He took a very slow, almost deep breath and found that something had died in his mouth and might still be in there...

Water would be nice...

"You're awake."

He jumped and then groaned as fire lit and spread from his ribs outwards. He bent forward, wrapping an arm around them, feeling like a _baby _when an actual _whimper _escaped his lips.

Christ, thank god Sammy wasn-

Reality slammed into him just as a tiny blond girl moved into his line of vision.

His gaze dropped, pain of a completely different kind engulfing him- Sam wasn't here, wasn't anywhere he was, Sam was _gone..._

"Hey?" she snapped at him and waved a hand in front of his face. He raised his gaze to hers. Long blond waves, big blue eyes, wide mouth set in as thin a line as it'd ever be- pretty girl, he decided. He let his gaze slip shut again, his head _hurt._

"HEY!" She yelled.

And he felt a shove on his shoulder. Instinctively he grabbed her wrist, his hand wrapping all the way around it. He didn't really want to open his eyes again. He didn't want to do anything, he wanted to sink into whatever he was lying on and never come back up for air.

"Leave me 'lone." He ordered, his voice scratchy and dry. Water would be _really _good.

There was silence for a long moment, so long he forgot he was holding a tiny wrist until fingernails were clawing into his hand and a voice was spitting venom at him so fiercely his eyes _snapped _open.

"LEAVE YOU ALONE? Do you have any fuckin IDEA where you'd be if I'd LEFT YOU ALONE! You're ORDERING me to LEAVE YOU ALONE? Well, I'm ORDERING you to LET ME GO and to get OUT OF MY HOUSE before I scream so LOUDLY the ENTIRE sheriff's department hears me! You understand me, you jackass! _LET ME GO!"_

The nails dug into his hand harder and he realized she was gripping his hand with her other one. He released her and watched as she faltered backwards away from him, rubbing her wrist.

"Get out." She hissed, eyes shooting sparks.

Get out of where? He tried to sit up and managed it only partly before he was gasping for breath again and the room was spinning, he was pretty sure his head was trying to detach itself from his body and _Sam was gone. _Where would he go? What was he supposed to do?

"I'm sorry- I- where-? I don't-" he took stuttering breath, "-I don't know..." he trailed off. She was glaring at him like she was about to take a chunk of his head off- which would be doing him a favor right now.

"You're sorry? I try to be nice to you and come here all ready to _help _you and you _grab _me? What kind of person are you? And not just a little grab-" she held her wrist up, "- this is gonna bruise!"

He blinked at her, not certain which part of that to address first. Was she _glad _he'd apologized? Pissed about it? Was she gonna help him? At least tell him where the hell he was... and water, water would nice...

"m'sorry." He repeated, releasing another breath slowly, "... ca' I have water please?" Polite usually worked with women.

She blinked back at him much the same way he was sure he'd just done to her. So not the right response then?

The glare continued, until finally she rolled her eyes, "FINE. But don't think I'm okay with you _grabbing _me! DON'T do it again."

He nodded- and regretted it instantly. Pain slashed across his vision, turning it murky as spots danced across his eyes. He lowered his head and groaned and wished he could disappear again.

He was lost in ebbing waves of sleep and pain for a bit before he felt something cool spray across his face. He twitched against it, it was pulling him back from the hazy-pain towards the sharp-throbbing-pain he'd rather not feel.

It happened again. Droplets across his face, cool and annoying. He ignored it, even as the throbbing in his head and the fire in his ribs became more real.

It happened again- wet and annoying now. Again. Insistent and harder- his face was dripping now. He brought a hand up to it, found that there was pain there too. His lip hurt now, his jaw...

His eyes flickered open more easily this time, didn't stick together. She was kneeling a good distance away from him, a glass of water in her hands, fingers dipped into as she prepared to flick more of it at him.

"Good. I was about to just dump the glass on you." She stated, "Here." She extended the glass to him.

He looked at it. It might as well be a 1000 miles away. He just _hurt._

"I'd help you," he heard her say and realized that his eyes had slipped shut, he forced them open again, "But dude. You're like... covered in... just... gross..." she wrinkled her nose at him.

He had no idea what she was talking about aside from the fact that she wasn't going to help him bridge the thousand miles to the glass of water.

An eternity later he had the glass in his hand. He'd spilled about half of it, but that wasn't important. _Water_, was what was important. He brought to his lips, ignoring the shaking hand that could only belong to him- what the hell had happened to him?

He drained what was left of the glass in one long swallow, relishing the coolness against his dry, aching throat. When he'd finished he held the glass out to her, trying to keep his hand steady and failing miserably. She took it and stared at him.

"Thanks." He offered, his voice was hoarse still, but not scratchy- it didn't hurt to talk as much anymore.

"You look really bad." His _Good Samaritan_ replied pragmatically, "Are you sure you don't want me to call an ambulance or something-"

"NO!" He yelled it before he could stop himself and then braced himself for the fall-out. He'd known this girl for ten seconds, but he knew she wouldn't take to being yelled at. The room was silent again and he shifted, pushing himself up further, levering himself up with the armrest so he was sitting completely vertical. The room was spinning again and it felt like his ribs slid and slipped with each motion, but he kept his eyes on her and his groans to minimum. "Please," he added, a little breathlessly, but mostly steady, "I just... I can leave... I need a minute, but I can... I'll be gone... just don't- please don't call anyone... I can leave..." He finished, fear slicing through him. Irrational, but real; so very real. He couldn't remember last night- hell, what _day _was it?

"Fine," she was saying on a huff and then she was standing and moving away.

He meant to call after her, but realized he didn't know her name and lowered his head into his hands instead. Moments later- or hours, he felt something soft drop across his shoulders.

"Come on. You need a shower- and then probably food and then I'll drop you off at a bus station or something..." she said, pulling his arm. He vaguely remember pulling like this. He let her do it, let her tug him up as he shakily stood; she pointed him in the direction of a small hallway.

"First door on your right. I'll drop some clothes in for ya. Use a lot of water and all the soap if you have to." She ordered and he wondered for the first time what he looked like. He staggered in the direction she'd pointed him in and hazily opened the door. The bathroom was small and mostly pink, he was starting to feel like he was in the twilight zone. Thoughts kept slipping in and out before he could actually register them. Where was he? What the hell had he _done _after Sam- he swallowed hard and started stripping his clothes off. Ending that train of thought.

She was right, he was covered in... stuff. Sand and gunk and... was that...? Vomit?

-oh _gross. _

He finished tearing them off more quickly and gingerly stepped into the shower. The entire right side of his ribs was an array of colorful bruises that spread up towards his chest. The faintest touch made him gasp and staring at them he hazily remembered a pool hall and a few guys he'd known better than to hustle...

He barely fit in the shower, but the water pressure was strong and the water was hot and when he stepped out he felt relatively more human. His head might hurt less, but it still pounded and if he turned it too quickly the room spun. He leaned back against the shower stall for a moment, closing his eyes and trying to relax his breathing, to make the pain fade a little.

Time slipped away and when a shiver slid through him he opened his eyes in surprise. The steam from the shower was gone and the small room was chilly. There was a pile of clothes on the floor by the door and he briefly wondered how he was supposed to bend down to get them. Instead he turned and took a step so he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror and took stock.

Three badly bruised ribs, one maybe more than mild concussion, bruised jaw, split lip, and torn up knuckles- not so bad considering. The hang-over was what was killing him. He recognized it now, the taste in his mouth, the hazy, disoriented feeling... the vomit.

He had about three day's worth of beard on his face, so as close as he could figure it must be Thursday, maybe Friday. Last day he clearly remembered was Tuesday. Monday he wished he didn't remember. Sunday he knew he'd never forget. As long as he lived he'd never forget the words Dad and Sam had hurled at each other.

He swallowed hard and turned back to the pile of clothes by the door. He put a hand lightly against his ribs, flinching at even that light touch. Slowly, walked over to it and stared.

... getting dressed promised to be fun. Yeah.

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.tbc.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: No copyright infringement intended.

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The camphor oil wasn't helping. At all.

She'd been pacing for over a half hour- since she'd dropped a pile of Shawn's old clothes just inside the bathroom.

Her bathroom. She had a guy in her bathroom. A showering guy. A _naked _guy. A naked, showering guy who had a grip like iron. Who'd _grabbed _her. It had surprised the hell of her considering he'd appeared unconscious again. The way his hand had snaked out like that, the way he'd just _gripped _her. She known that no matter how hard she pulled she wasn't getting out of that hold until he let her and that had _terrified _her.

She didn't know this guy. She didn't know anything about him- at all.

He could be an _alien. _One of _Them_. Sent to hunt down Michael, Max and Isabel... and anyone in the way.

He _had _just shown up out of no where... walking around in the thunderstorm. And there hadn't been a crash landing lately, but that was exactly the point—no crash, but that didn't mean there hadn't been a _landing._ Sure, he appeared drunk, but that didn't mean much.

Tess had been able to create illusions for christsake... who knew what this guy was capable of! And the fact that he'd been in the bathroom for close to an hour was not helping. What was he doing in there? Was he peeling his flesh off like that Courtney-girl? Or maybe he was mutating or who knew what else. It could be _anything!_

Her pacing got a bit faster. God. She should call the sheriff. Valenti would know what to do. He'd keep it quiet too, no need for her Mom to find out. She could call him. He'd be here in minutes. He'd speed and he'd deal with this.

She had the phone in her hand when she remembered the flash of panic in the guys eyes when she'd mentioned an ambulance. Pure panic —she knew that feeling.

"I'd really… I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't call anyone."

His voice surprised her- smoother than she'd heard it so far and almost hesitant. She turned towards the living room and staggered backwards, almost dropping the phone, eyes widening.

He wasn't wearing a shirt. He was _shirtless. _She had a _shirtless, _guy in her in living room!

He must have seen her shock—hell she was surprised her jaw didn't hit the floor, because he gave the tiniest shrug and spoke again, "I couldn't… I had a hard time with…" he stopped and she realized that he was shaking a little and was breathing kinda fast.

She took a step forward and now maybe her jaw did hit the floor because she'd never seen bruises that ugly. They were worse than the ones Max had sported after he'd been captured.

"Whoa! What the heck landed on you!" she screeched, he flinched and she remembered the hang-over he probably had, "… why don't you—here, just sit..." she walked forward, motioning towards the sofa.

He didn't say anything, just wrapped an arm around his middle, bending forward slightly, before heading for the sofa.

"I called your Dad." She blurted out, as he lowered himself onto the sofa very carefully.

He looked up when he'd sat down, a smirk on his lips, something sad and heartbreaking flashed in his eyes. "Had a chat with his voicemail, huh?" he asked ruefully.

She met those suddenly sad eyes and felt something inside her shift and soften.

And then promptly panicked about it, because that couldn't be normal. He _was _an alien.

She swallowed hard, "Uh… yeah, yeah, I left him a message…"

"Don't hold your breath on a call back." He responded, sitting back gingerly.

She watched him settle down and had the most irrational urge to set up pillows around him, to make him more comfortable, because suddenly he didn't look like a drunken bum at all. He just looked like a big hurt kid—like Max would or Shawn or… Michael…

"I'll get you another shirt, a button-down…" she offered and fled from the living room.

She wasn't going to think about Michael. She _wasn't. _

She rummaged through all the clothes Shawn had left and found nothing. There was no way he was getting his arms up above his head to get a t-shirt on. She grabbed a pair of scissors and started working.

When she went back to the living room he was sitting back, eyes staring up at the ceiling, in another world—and she sincerely hoped not literally.

"Here," she said softly, hoping he wouldn't jump. He didn't he lifted his head and opened his eyes.

"Thanks." He said sincerely, his gaze found hers and she swallowed hard. There was something there she couldn't identify, something that connected with her and she didn't know what it was and she was afraid of finding out. Afraid of what it would mean. She couldn't do anymore drama, she wouldn't survive it.

"I couldn't find an actual shirt so I just sort of cut it for you… its not gonna close or anything, but at least its better than for you to… you know, walk around naked… not that you're naked or anything, but you still need to have a- here let me-" she cut herself off and instead held one side of the shirt open for him. She watched as he very slowly and carefully slipped an arm into it. Then she helped him slip the other one in.

"Thanks," he said again.

She nodded and came around to sit in front of him on the coffee table.

"So," she said.

He stared at her for a long moment then asked, "Where am I?"

Maria felt panic light inside of her. Holy Hell, he _was _an alien. He _was. _Why else would he ask that? Why not _what happened _or _who are you?_ Why ask, _where am I?_

She got up again and went to the counter to get her camphor oil, "Oh god, oh god, oh god… not again. I can't—I can't do this again…" she muttered to herself, inhaling the oil that wasn't helping.

He wasn't evil. He hadn't tried to kill her yet and he was hurt… so she wasn't in _danger. _But god… she'd have to tell Max and he'd have to come over and she'd tried so hard to avoid Max. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to remember, was trying so hard to forget.

It was hard enough with Liz, but Max with those big, brown eyes that saw straight to the part that missed Michael the most...

"Are you okay?"

He called it from the living room and managed to actually sound genuinely concerned- not evil, she thought again, slowing her pacing, bringing the useless camphor away from her noise.

Not evil. Just lost and alone and hurt- on a foreign planet.

She turned back to the living room, sat back down and took a deep breath. She released it slowly, letting her eyes close for just an instant, preparing to dive back into the alien drama.

Opening her eyes to meet his she whispered, "Earth."

He blinked at her, then the corners of his mouth tilted upwards, "Okay, thanks for the... uh, clarification, but you know... that doesn't really uh, help me... _where _am I?" he stated.

She shrugged, "I don't know... I guess- third planet from the sun... well, that would be our sun though... I have no idea if you guys have your own sun. I guess you would, I mean you need light and heat right? Everything does... well, mostly everything... no maybe not, I think there are ocean species that don't, but you guys aren't ocean-y. You're just like us... well, mostly. Except for the whole possessing-! Are you possessing someone! Tell me you're not borrowing a host!" She panicked and was up pacing again.

"Of course you are!" she yelled, "The only ones with real bodies are the Royals... jeez, there's a dad out there that doesn't know where his kid is! Look, I know you need a body and whatever, but you need to call this guys Dad and just tell him you aren't lying in a ditch somewhere! Which you know... you could have been! You should really be more careful with that guy! Look at him he's all covered in bruises and stuff! He's gonna wake up and wonder what the hell happened. THIS is why people are afraid of you guys! Because they get _abducted _and then wake up all beat to hell and you could have _drowned _him in that storm last night! Or he could have choked to death or something! You can't just go around possessing people and-"

He stood up and she snapped her mouth shut, because suddenly he didn't look all that lost and alone and hurt - he looked like he could be dangerous and hard and maybe just a little evil.

She swallowed hard, "... or you could just possess whoever you want-"

"_Who _are you?" he asked, cutting her off.

She blinked, he sounded angry- and wary, somehow, "Maria... I'm Maria." She answered after a long moment.

"Why the _hell _are you talking about possessions?" he asked angrily. She didn't get the chance to answer before he was talking again, _angrily,_ "Did you _summon _something?" He asked.

She blinked, "What?"

"Did you decide to play The Craft and _summon _something?" He asked, still angry.

_"What?"_

"You can't mess around with shit like that! People get hurt! It's not some game!" He yelled.

Her temper flared. He was _yelling _at her.

"I KNOW its not a game! I KNOW people get hurt!" She yelled back, Alex's face flashing in her mind.

Tears stung her eyes as they always did when memories of him came to her, "I'm one of the few people on this planet who've known enough about this shit to understand that! I know the way you guys come in and destroy lives and change people forever by just EXISTING! So don't you DARE stand there and YELL at me and tell me its not a DAMN GAME! We're not the ones that play games with people's lives! Not the ones that risk others lives and others hearts!" The last part slipped out before she could stop it.

The room was silent for a long moment. She was breathing hard, trying to get her emotions under control; to forget the things that threatened to make her lose that control.

His gaze was fixed on her for so long that her anger had started seeping away by the time he spoke, "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, confused eyes fixed on her, his voice wringing with sincerity.

She stared back, frowning, "What you mean what am I talking about? What are _you _talking?" she asked.

He continued to stare, "I... don't know... you said- possession... I... what exactly- I mean... what are _you _talking about? " He answered and she could practically see him backpedaling.

She frowned, "Did the crash scramble your brains? I'm not in the mood to joke around. In fact, you just put me in a really pissy mood actually, so how 'bout I just call Max for you, okay."

It wasn't a question. She didn't want to deal with him anymore; didn't want to deal with any of this- she'd do it one more time though. Alien drama one. more. time. She reached for the phone again.

"Who's Max? What crash? I'm sorry- but... just... where am I? How did... Maria..." He finished quietly and she stopped dialing, looking up at him, his eyes were wide and she realized he was still pale and kind of shaky. "... I don't know..." he trailed off and she watched him sway a little and reach a hand out to the counter. He was going to collapse on her living room floor...

"Whoa! Whoa!" she screeched and rushed at him. "SIT! Christ! Don't FALL! JUST SIT!" She yanked out a chair out and nearly shoved him into it. She winced when he gasped, but god... having to pull him off the ground again was _not _appealing. He curled forward, laying his head down on the table and muttering something.

"Huh?" she asked, bending down to hear him. He was the most resilient alien she'd met.

"... I said... you're frigging loud..." he repeated, frustration coloring his voice.

Maria straightened, "Ex-_cuse _me? I'm LOUD? Oh, trust me buddy I haven't even _BEGUN _to get loud with you? I scraped you off my driveway! I let your muddy, wet, drunken, self into my CAR! You _drop in _on my life and-" abruptly she stopped, eyes widening, mouth snapping shut- the image of him staggering away from her in the rain flashing through her mind.

He _hadn't _dropped in on her life... he'd _wandered _in_... _in the rain and then he would've wandered out if she hadn't stopped the car.

"What?" he asked, looking at her now. Pain etched on his face, blonde hair still wet and matted down against his head. One side of his face was one big welt, his lip looked big and swollen, his eyes red-rimmed and murky.

He sighed, when she didn't respond, wincing immediately afterwards, "Can you just..." he trailed, shifting back towards the table, lowering his head onto his hands again as if it had suddenly gotten too heavy to hold up.

Maria swallowed hard, what if... what if he _wasn't _an alien? The thought was foreign to her. A stranger wandering into her life who wasn't an alien? Drama going on that wasn't alien related...?

She lifted her chin and moved to sit at the table, "Okay, I'll play along." She stated, in case he _was _one of them...

"You're in Roswell, New Mexico. I'm Maria and you helped me unload boxes in the rain last night. You were drunk and being the lovely, humanitarian that I am, I let you sleep in my car- and you thanked me by _attacking _me." She finished, because he'd _grabbed _her.

"Roswell?" He repeated, lifting his head a little, he stared at her for a long moment, "_New Mexico. _Christ." Disbelief rang in his voice.

She scowled, "What's _wrong _with New Mexico?" She hissed, she could think of a few things off the top of her head, but that didn't mean _he _got to say anything bad about it.

He blinked at her, "Last I remember I was in... not New Mexico..." he stated, the words starting to slur, "Roswell..." he grinned at her suddenly, "Aliens... you have aliens here, don't you?"

He wasn't serious. She could see that in his eyes, he was kidding, joking, expecting her to brush it off with a laugh and an eye roll- and two years ago she would have. She would have laughed and told him she went to school with three- because people never believed the truth.

But that was two years ago, and she'd forgotten how to do that. How to be that careless, that confident, that stupid...

"You should get some sleep." She said instead, standing, "Come on, I'll help you the couch."

He blinked again and she realized he was having trouble focusing. She frowned, this guy needed a doctor. He needed some sort of treatment- he was hurt and if he died in her living room that special unit of the FBI would descend on her lightening fast. She didn't need that. She should give him his $20 and point him in the direction of bus depot.

He was standing up, wavering on his feet and she knew she couldn't do that.

Instead, she went over and grabbed his arm, then led him back towards the sofa. He sort of slid onto it, asleep before he even fully reached it.

He curled away from the edge, ducking his face into the cushions.

She watched him for a moment, "Please don't be an alien," she whispered. The words were out before she fully formulated them in her mind and she felt stupid saying them out loud- but yeah, please- no more alien drama.

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**.tbc.**


End file.
